A hot rush of shame floods through me. He doesn’t want me.

“I… I’m sorry,” I stutter. I want to die—for the ground to open and swallow me up. Oh God, what was I thinking? I practically stripped him na**d and threw him on the floor. He must think I’m a dog in heat, that I haven’t been laid in years! “I.. I thought… That you…”

Fuck. I sink back against the bench, humiliated. Just kill me now.

“Just go.” I say quietly, turning away. “You don’t want me. Forget this ever happened.”

“What? No, that’s not what I meant.” In an instant, Emerson is at my side. “Jules, look at me.” He takes my face between his thumb and forefinger, and gently turns my head so I have no choice but to look at him. “It’s not that I don’t want you. Damn, all I’ve been able to think about for days is ripping your clothes off and f**king you senseless.”

“So what’s stopping you?” I blink back at him. “I don’t understand.”

Emerson grins gently. “You thought I was just going to walk in here and slam you up against the bench?”

“Well, yes!” I exclaim, embarrassed.

He laughs. “I came here tonight to take you out.”

I stare. “Like, on a date?”

“Yeah.” Now it’s Emerson’s turn to look embarrassed. “You said we needed to talk, and… I didn’t want you thinking I only want you for sex.”

“No, that’s my move.” I say, flushing hot again.

He gives me a daring grin. “Believe me, baby, it’s taking everything I have not to get you na**d right now. But, I made plans. So if you can hold off driving me wild until after your surprise…”

“I can try,” I tell him, smiling as relief washes through me. It’s all OK. I haven’t screwed this up. “But no promises.”

“Good enough.” Emerson opens the door and then holds it open, gesturing me to go through it. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

CHAPTER TEN

Emerson waits while I go clean myself up inside, then we head outside. In the light of the setting sun, I can see that he’s cleaned himself up: he’s clean-shaven, with his damp hair smoothed back, wearing a sky-blue shirt with his jeans that sets off his tan and makes his eyes look like deep pools of crystal water.

He looks flat-out, drop-dead gorgeous.

Good enough to eat. Again.

I get to the truck, but as I reach for the door, Emerson cuts in front of me to open it. He holds out his hand to help me up. “I didn’t say it before,” he adds, holding on once I’m inside. “But you look really beautiful tonight.”

I blush. “I had, like, three minutes in the shower,” I point out. I was racing round my room so fast, I’m surprised I managed to get my sundress on the right way around.

“So?” Emerson bends his head and drops a soft kiss on my knuckles. “You always look amazing.”

He slams the door and goes around to the driver’s side, while I try to get my blushing under control. I’ve got butterflies whirling in my stomach, and I feel like I’m a teenager all over again and he’s come to pick me up for our very first date.

Not that we really did the whole ‘dating’ thing, I remind myself. We cut right to the backseat part of the night.

“So where are we going?” I ask, as Emerson backs out of the drive.

He grins at me. “It’s a surprise.”

“Not even a hint?” I fake pout, and he laughs.

“Nope. Patience.”

Now it’s my turn to laugh. “I think we figured out that’s not exactly my thing. At least, not with you,” I add, then immediately scold myself for my honesty. Something in me still doesn’t want him knowing the effect he has on me, like nothing I’ve ever known with anyone else.

But Emerson doesn’t seem to notice my inadvertent confession. Or if he does, he doesn’t mind.

“Believe me,” Emerson drapes an arm over the back of my seat, the brush of his fingertips on my neck sending shivers right through me. “You’re not the only one with impulse control problems. I’m already thinking of all the ways I’m going to make you come tonight.”

I catch my breath at his words, feeling desire tug deep in me. I turn and catch his gaze, the hunger in his eyes burning right the way through me. He pauses at an intersection and reaches for me: tasting my lips, dipping his tongue into my mouth as I melt against him.

The kiss deepens, then Emerson pulls away. He turns back to the road and slams his hand against the steering wheel.

“Damn.” Emerson swears. “I said I wouldn’t do this.”

“Do what?” I ask, worried.

“Jump you, like some wild animal. I’m trying to be romantic here, remember?”

I let out a sigh of relief. It’s sweet, him trying to keep his hands off me when all I want to do is rip that shirt open and lick my way down his gloriously muscled body.

“OK, we make a pact then.” I agree. “No jumping until the end of the night.”

Emerson gives me a sideways look. “I could turn the truck around right now and take you home, and that would be the end of the night.”

I laugh. “OK then, midnight. We keep our hands off each other until then. Deal?”

Emerson lets out a tortured sigh. He turns to give me a liquid look, full of desire, then finally nods. “Deal. But it’s not because I don’t want you...” his eyes soften, sincere. “What you said earlier—“